


My Heart Will Flourish, But Only For You

by kampix



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Other, Plants as a Metaphor for Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 17:17:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20393314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kampix/pseuds/kampix
Summary: This is a few hundred words of fluff based entirely on a song that I thought was a huge Crowley mood. It involves plants, plant-based metaphors, Aziraphale, and a bucketful of tenderness.





	My Heart Will Flourish, But Only For You

**Author's Note:**

> So, there's this Québec band that I love very much called 'Les trois accords' and I recently realized that about a whole bunch of their songs are huge ass Good Omens moods. And then this fic happened...

Crowley was singing as he tended to his plants today. Aziraphale could hear it from where he stood, right behind the door. It wasn't the first time he heard this particular song, though Crowley was unaware of it. And so the angel did like he usually did and stayed silent, listening intently.

"--coeur est une plante,/ qui pousse mieux dans un jardin./ 'Zira, le planteras-tu dans le mien.../ 'Zira mon coeur a des demandes,/ il aime qu'on en prenne soin./ 'Zira mon coeur a besoin d'entretien..."[1]

'The name is certainly new,' he thought, and opened the door before the demon could get to the chorus.

"You have a lovely singing voice, Crowley."

To Crowley's credit the only indication he was even startled by the sudden arrival was that he froze for about a quarter of a second.

"Aziraphale, wasn't aware you were coming over today," said the demon, his focus entirely on the plants as he spoke, going for an air on nonchalance. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Oh, barely a tick, but I do believe I heard you sing my name."

This time Crowley did face him, pivoting on his heels to turn around.

"Nope-- not-- yeah, no, wasn't your name. That was... Zr-- Riza! Lovely girl, I'm sure... Sorry to disappoint angel."

If Crowley was dreadfully overwatering the small ficus he held, Aziraphale kindly did not point it out.

"Ah, well, I thought it all sounded rather nice. What was the song about?"

"Haven't brushed up on your French recently then?"

"Not recently[2], no." The angel was pretty certain it was relief that he saw flash in Crowley's eyes for a moment.

"S'just some song about a girl that likes gardening."

"Riza, I take it."

"Hng, yeah. Riza."

There was silence for a few moments.

"Can I get you something? Tea?"

"Oh that won't be necessary, my dear. I'll be off in a minute. I was actually running a few errands when I ended up in the area and, well, I thought I could pop in for a moment, say hello."

"Right."

Aziraphale started heading out, then stopped, a few strides away from the door. "But if you like, you could come over to the bookshop this _Sunday_."

_ _Crowley's breath caught in his throat._ _

_ _"Well, tomorrow, that is," Aziraphale continued unaffected. "I thought we could have a quiet day in. If you could just drop by that little place next street and grab some of their rather delightful cookies before coming over, that would be lovely."_ _

_ _The small potted plant slipped from the demon's hand. Without looking, Aziraphale snapped his fingers before it could reach the ground. The ficus now stood out of harm's way and appeared to be a little less drenched._ _

_ _"Oh, and maybe some milk too. I'm afraid i just ran out." Crowley could only stare wide eyed at the angel. "For my part I believe I can take care of the glasses and seating arrangements. Shouldn’t be any trouble, really." Aziraphale clapped his hands together, seemingly unaware of the mild heart attack his choice of words[3] just caused. "What do you say, my dear?"_ _

_ _He turned his head to look at Crowley expectantly and got a very coherent "hnrk" for his trouble._ _

_ _"I'll be expecting you tomorrow then."_ _

Aziraphale walked out of the flat then and absolutely did _not_ grin smugly when he heard Crowley mutter a soft "basstard"; a hiss that decidedly did _not_ sound rather smitten. 

**Author's Note:**

> 1Crowley is singing this (except for the name. He changed that on a whim): Rebecca, my heart's a potted plant,/ that grows better in a garden./ Rebecca, would you plant it in your own, then. / Rebecca, my heart has some demands,/ it likes being taken care of./ Rebecca, my heart is in need of maintenance./[return to text]
> 
> 2Recently for Crowley meant between now and a few centuries ago. Aziraphale knew this of course, but seeing as he had not mentioned it, the angel saw no reason to point out he himself meant the last 15 years.[return to text]
> 
> 3Aziraphale knows the lyrics of the song by now and it's no coincidence if his words sound a lot like a few verses from it, namely the following: [...] Rebecca what have you planned for Sunday,/ I know I've nothing planned anyway./ Rebecca what have you planned for next Sunday./ [...] and bring over some cookies, a bean bag, and a glass./ Some milk,/ while you're at it./[return to text]
> 
> \---------
> 
> Well, this was really meant to be a comic, but well, I am much more of a writer and so a fic it was.
> 
> Also, for anyone curious about the song, you can listen to it [ here ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Takr9lgL0PU)
> 
> Kudos and comments are lovely, I truly appreciate them, so much. You can find me on [ tumblr ](https://kamipixel.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat about Good Omens, my writing, or would like me to translate the rest of the song's lyrics.


End file.
